Fracture
by T3t
Summary: Two dying women fracture the world, and their son bears the consequences.  Harry Potter/Dresden Files crossover.
1. Broken

**Disclaimer: **Neither Harry Dresden nor Harry Potter belong to me.**  
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**A/N: **I'm still working on Thunderstorm, new chapter should be out soon. There we go. Anyways, this is a plot bunny that bit me while I was working on chapter 7 of Thunderstorm and wouldn't let go. Keep in mind that the protagonist is _one person_, this is important not to get confused. While the story is rated M, it probably won't ever be a very heavy M - I'm just covering my bases. Future updates will be faster in the DLP WbA, as usual (except in the Dresden WbA this time). Please read, review, and most importantly, enjoy!**  
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><p><strong>Shattered Glass<strong>

**October 31st, 1981**

"_Avada Kedavra_."

A scream of pain, desperation, and triumph.

A flash of green light, the rushing cold of dark power. A soul is torn from its body, magic is released from its life, and the barriers are breached.

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><p><strong>Home and Hell<strong>

**June - November, 1987 (July, 1984)**

When I tried to tell my father about the fat man and skinny woman who locked me in a cupboard every third day and night, he thought I was having nightmares. He told me that he'd be there for me in the morning, and he was, but only after I spent a day trapped in a nightmare.

I decided to take matters into my own hands.

Upon my vocal objections to the treatment I suffered at her hands, she dropped me in surprise. I then noticed, having become more self-aware, that I was rather smaller than I used to be. Talking was more difficult too, but this didn't bother me overmuch. I only needed to say one word: "No".

The woman shoved me into the cupboard for my trouble and I started screaming for my release, but she ignored me. I fell asleep alone, afraid, and exhausted.

The next morning I woke up to my father's smiling face. "Daddy," I whispered. "She put me in the cupboard again."

His smile dimmed, but he brought me closer to him and whispered soothing words into my ear.

He didn't believe me.

Days passed, weeks passed, months passed. I suffered the company of the Dursley family with as much dignity as I could muster, treasuring the time I spent with my father that much more.

Malcolm Dresden died of a brain aneurysm when I was six. I should not have been able to understand what that meant at my age, but I did. I discovered that while I spent every third day in some otherworldly hell, time did not pass in what I called the "real world". I was still young, but older than I appeared.

And thus I was sent to the orphanage.

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><p><strong>A Daring Plan<strong>

**December, 1987 - January, 1988 (November, 1984)**

The orphanage was a small building, worn down with age and neglect, but there was a life to it despite its miserable appearance. The paint was peeling and discolored, but there were flowers growing in the windowsills and decorations adorning the walls.

The rooms inside were as cramped as the building, but they were large enough for a small child and his meager possessions.

I stared at the ceiling, laying on my cramped bed. The room I now lived in was modest, plain, and functional. The food was much the same, as were the clothes I wore. Despite this, I noticed that being a ward of the state was not nearly so terrible as the Dursleys would have had me believe.

A week after my father died, I began to rise out of numbness into true grief. It hurt, and I took out the pain on my tormentors in the other world. They couldn't hurt me any more than they already did, and I became further convinced that the entire thing was a figment of my imagination. Even I was old enough to understand that glass vases didn't shatter when you screamed.

A few weeks later, I came to see the silver lining, however thin it was. The orphanage was preferable to the Dursleys, and I was certain that this would be the case in England just as much as in the United States. There had to be a reason why they hadn't sent me to an orphanage, and the threat of Child Protection would surely entice them to treat me better.

"Uncle Vernon," I said. He looked very big and very real, and despite my previous conviction, this seemed to be a foolish endeavor. As he turned around, I girded my resolve and reminded myself that he couldn't truly hurt me, and if he did, I'd just go to an orphanage myself.

"What?" he barked out.

I drew in a deep breath. "Why do I sleep in a cupboard?"

"Because it's what you deserve! Now get lost if you want dinner!" he shouted.

He started to turn around again, but what I said next caught his attention quite well. "I wonder what the police would think?"

He froze mid-step.

"Or the neighbors," I continued.

Vernon turned his head to look at me, and I could almost see the thoughts flashing through his head. After a long moment, during which I didn't dare move, he harrumphed. "You move into Dudley's second room today." He turned away, satisfied that the threat had been defused. It didn't occur to him to wonder how a four-year old could speak in complete sentences, let alone plan out and execute a blackmailing attempt.

The next day, as I woke up in the orphanage again, I smiled for the first time in a month.

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><p><strong>Freedom of the Mind<strong>

**November, 1989 - November, 1991 (November, 1985 - November, 1986)**

I rolled my eyes as the teacher called on me once again. Looking at the textbook, I dutifully read out the specified passage. I had a lot of practice at reading, given that I had nothing else to do in my new room at the Dursleys. Not that I was complaining - it was better than sitting in the dark all day.

As the teacher went back to lecturing, I looked around the classroom. The children were restless and clearly not interested in being in a classroom, but that was to be expected. This was not one of the better areas of Chicago, and a significant fraction of the students came from the orphanage.

Johnny was picking at his scabs again, I noticed with some mild despair. I had become something of an assistant to our caretakers because I was reliable. More mature, _older_, really, but they had no way of knowing that. It made it difficult to have friends, though. Those my age - I was eight - all seemed so very young, and the older kids couldn't be bothered with my presence.

With a silent sigh, I turned back to my book.

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><p>I ignored the breeze whipping hair into my eyes as I tried to stare down the two bullies. Mark, the tall one, was flanked by Jason, the taller one.<p>

Mark sneered. "Why do you even bother, Shorty Harry? We all know you can't jump."

I bristled at the nickname, mostly because it was accurate. I wasn't about to let these two goons intimidate me into not performing. Tilting my chin up, I sneered back. "I'd like to see you do better than me."

He snorted and shared a look with Jason. They thought they could jump farther than I could. To be fair, I wasn't so sure they couldn't, but the important part was getting them to leave me alone _now_, before the competition.

He turned back to me. "Alright, Shorty, we'll see who's biting the dirt later." The pair walked away without a second glance.

Letting out a _whuff_ of air, I turned to stand in line for the long-jump. I daydreamed of how it would feel to actually beat them, and the vicious surge of satisfaction made me realize how much I _wanted_ to. Well, I thought, I would just give it my best shot. If I did manage to jump farther than those two gorillas, the looks on their faces would be priceless.

A few moments later, my turn had come. I stepped up to the line, drew in a deep breath, bent my knees, and _pushed_-

- _felt something push me_ -

- and left the ground far faster than I expected. For a moment, I flew, but then gravity reasserted itself. I landed awkwardly, a tangle of limbs, bones, skin, and asphalt that left me dizzy and breathless. A moment later, the pain hit, but I started chuckling.

Those suckers sure weren't going to beat me this time.

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><p>Two weeks later, I was sitting on my bed at the orphanage. Two weeks later, I was still confused about what had happened when I jumped. Two weeks later, I got called to the front office.<p>

It was two weeks later, then, that I met Justin DuMorne.

He was a tall man, lean with lanky arms and wide shoulders. His hair was cropped close to his head and his features were best described as striking rather than particularly handsome. That was not the first thing that I noticed about him, though.

The first thing that I noticed about him was the way he looked at me. When I entered the room, he peered at me so intensely that I thought I had something stuck in my hair - but no, he was just looking at me.

I ignored him and walked over to the front desk. "Yes, Ms. Graham?"

The bespectacled receptionist looked up at me and smiled. "Good morning, Harry. This is Mr. DuMorne," she motioned to the man standing at the side of her desk, "and he's expressed an interest in meeting you."

I turned to him and sized him up. He was no longer looking at me the way he had when I walked in, but his lips were curled up in a small smile.

I decided to stick to the basic formalities and stuck out my hand. "Pleased to meet you, sir."

He shook my hand and I felt a tingle, almost like the static electricity you picked up in front of a TV, but I ignored it as best as I could.

"Pleased to meet you too, Harry," he said, sincere yet unexcited. His voice matched his appearance well - it was deep and resonant, and it seemed to leave a strong impression on me. I shook off the cobwebs of thought and nodded, and his smile widened slightly.

"Tell me, Harry, do you believe in magic?" he asked.

I narrowed my eyes. This was clearly an _interview_, but that was a strange question to ask. I glanced at the receptionist, but she was busy with paperwork and didn't seem to be paying attention to us.

"My father was a stage magician," I replied. "But real magic?" I shrugged my shoulders. I had seen things - well, no, _done _things, really, that I couldn't explain. At first it had been limited to the _other_ world, but then came the long-jump. I could no longer put them off as hallucinations.

"Do you believe in God?" was his next question. I shot him a look, but he wouldn't meet my eyes. That was less of a strange question, but it worried me more. He hadn't struck me as a religious man, but you never knew. I took a minute to compose my answer.

"I have seen no evidence of any being comporting himself as such."

"Big words for a little answer," he snorted, but seemed satisfied. He turned to Ms. Graham and nodded. "I'll be signing the paperwork today."

My heart skipped a beat. I was being _adopted_? Just like that? I hadn't been hoping for it, exactly - by my age, it was usually too late. But I had thought about it on occasion and decided that it would be better than living in the orphanage. Hell, living with the _Dursleys_ was better than living in the orphanage, and that was barely tolerable.

I looked at Ms. Graham, and she smiled at me, and I smiled back.

I looked at Justin DuMorne, and he smiled at me. And I smiled back.

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><p><strong>Changes<strong>

**November, 1991 (November, 1986)**

Of course, the paperwork took some time to be filed and processed, but it went suspiciously fast. I was moving in with Justin a week later. When I stepped outside of the orphanage for the last time, carrying everything I owned in a small backpack, I expected us to step into a car and drive away. Justin seemed well-to-do, and besides, you had to have money and a job to adopt.

But we started walking instead. "Sir," I asked, "where are we going?"

He glanced down at me. "We're taking a bus back. And none of that sir crap, either, call me Justin. Do you prefer Harry?"

I nodded and set to keeping pace with him.

We arrived at the bus stop and sat down on the bench. "So, Harry. I hear you're a star student?"

"Yes, s- Justin. I do a lot of reading." I wasn't about to elaborate on where I did the reading.

"And are there any subjects you like?" he prompted.

I examined the passing traffic and shrugged. School was boring, and mostly busywork besides. Still, I supposed some subjects weren't too bad. "I like math, a bit. And science." Mostly because they were easy and a lot less boring than the other subjects.

"Good, good," he approved. The bus pulled in and we stood up. "I'll be teaching you some things apart from what you're learning at school, and math and science will help."

We boarded the bus and Justin led me to the middle. "What will I be learning?" I asked.

He smiled and shook his head. "It's a surprise."

"Alright," I replied, and settled in for the ride.

The bus dropped us off at Union Station and I glanced at Justin. "You don't live in Chicago?"

Justin chuckled and shook his head. "Hardly. I live in Des Moines, Iowa. I hope you don't have any objections to moving?" He gave me a mild look.

I shrugged. I was rather ambivalent about moving, to be honest. I liked Chicago, but getting away from all the reminders of what had happened here would be nice. Maybe I'd move back when I was older.

As we walked into the station, Jusin turned to me. "This trip's going to take a while, Harry. Do you have anything to read?"

I stopped and rifled through my backpack. "Um. Not really."

Justin took a moment to look at the board with the departure times. "Well, I suppose we've got some time. Come on, let's see if we can't find you something to read around here."

We wandered into a convenience store and found a rack full of paperbacks.

"See anything you like?" Justin asked.

I browsed through the collection and picked up an inoffensive legal drama.

Justin raised an eyebrow at my selection. "Aren't you a little young for that?"

I gave him a brief glare. "I can understand it just fine."

He dropped the argument and paid for the book, also picking up some bottled water and snacks.

We made our way to the train and I sat down to read, while Justin took out a pad and a pencil and started writing.

The book was none too realistic, but engaging enough and it passed the time. The train ride went by in silence, each of us absorbed in our material.

When we finally arrived, night had set and I was drowsing. Justin gently shook me awake and motioned for me to grab my backpack. I followed him out the train, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

A short bus ride later let us off a block from his house. We made our way inside and Justin showed me to my room. "You can have this one - or the next one," he said, pointing to the door at the far end.

I yawned and dropped my backpack near the foot of the bed. "I'll have this one."

"Go to sleep, Harry. You can unpack in the morning."

I nodded and tumbled into bed, barely managing to strip off my clothes before falling asleep.


	2. Willful Ignorance

**Disclaimer: **Neither Harry Dresden nor Harry Potter belong to me.**  
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**A/N: **Thunderstorm Chapter 7 will be done and hopefully posted tomorrow. For those worrying about the dearth of the HP-verse, you'll see it next chapter, though it won't be playing a huge role for a while yet. As always, read, review, and enjoy!

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><p><strong>Routine<strong>

**November, 1991 (November, 1986)**

I woke up to the unfamiliar smell of breakfast cooking. The warmth of the sheets was like a whisper in my mind, tugging me back to sleep, but the strange surroundings propelled me out of bed with a jolt.

I looked around for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart, and realized that I was in Justin's bedroom - _my_ _bedroom_. It looked different in the light, though my memory of last night was hazy from exhaustion.

I rifled through my backpack and got out the cleanest clothes I owned. Putting them on, I glanced around the room, noting the half-filled bookshelf and empty closet. My stomach overruled the impulse to unpack and I walked out of my room, seeking the kitchen.

My room was connected to the living room. I took a moment to examine it, wanting to get a feel for the place where I now lived. The fireplace seemed recently used, and I knelt down to sniff at it, confirming my suspicions. The smell of wood smoke was strong. Something about the rest of the room seemed... off. It took me a moment to pin down the feeling, and I realized it was a nagging sense of familiarity. The furniture was all new - fresh from the store, not yet broken in. Living with the Dursleys, I saw this every year or so, given their propensity to keep up with fashion trends.

Giving the room one last glance, I trudged into the kitchen. "Good morning, Justin."

Justin looked away from the stove. "Morning, Harry. I suppose we'll be buying you some new clothing."

"Is that a wood stove?" I asked.

"Yes it is, Harry," Justin replied, sliding scrambled eggs off the pan.

"And are you using it because you moved in recently?" I hazarded a guess.

Justin gave a surprised laugh. "Sharp as a tack, huh? I did buy the house recently, but that's not why I'm using a wood stove. I'll tell you in a week, but see if you can figure it out before then."

I looked around the kitchen, which was rather bare. So bare, in fact, that it seemed to be missing any electrical appliances. There had been no television in the living room, either.

"Do you use electricity? You don't seem Amish to me," I thought out loud.

Justin had finished setting the table by now. He gestured for me to sit down, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "I don't use electricity, and I'm not Amish. Can you think of any other reasons?"

This question carried me through breakfast, though I did not find any satisfactory answers. Afterward, Justin insisted on going shopping, and we took a bus to the nearest mall. At this point I would have been more surprised if he had in fact owned a car.

I tried to finish buying clothes as fast possible, because it was _boring_, and _yes_, _black was fine_, and _no_,_ I didn't need any hats_.

On other hand, I took my time when we went to the bookstore. My supply of reading material at the Dursleys was running low.

Eventually, though, Justin dragged me home. The next week had me settling into an ambling routine, wherein I woke up, went to school, and came back home. Everything in between was subject to my whims, or, on rare occasions, Justin's.

The weekend after I was adopted, Justin woke me with a manic smile on his face. "We're going on a trip, Harry."

=(.o0O0o.)=

**Unlikely Happenstance**

**December, 1991 (November, 1986)**

Our trip took us two states over on a train and two miles over on a bus. Justin wouldn't tell me where we were going or why, so I sulked in silence for most of it. After our bus dropped us off, we walked for a few blocks before coming to a dilapidated building.

A looming sense of familiarity caused me to inspect the surroundings more closely, but nothing stood out.

As we entered the building, however, I recognized where we were. "This is an orphanage!" I shot an accusing glare at Justin.

He gave me an amused look. "What, tired of me already, Harry? Don't worry, we're not here for you."

It took a moment for the implications to sink in. To say that I was _resentful _would be an incomplete assessment. It was more the fact that _Justin hadn't told me_ which bothered me than, well, having to share him with somebody else.

As it was, I was still trying to figure out why Justin was adopting somebody else when we walked into an office with a receptionist and a girl, about my age.

Her face lit up, like she had doubted that he would show up. Justin smiled at her and turned to the receptionist. "So, any more papers to fill out, or can Elaine go home?"

The receptionist shook her head. "All done, Mr. DuMorne. Congratulations, Elaine."

Elaine bounded off to get her belongings, and I fixed Justin with a questioning gaze.

"Now, Harry, everybody deserves a chance to escape," he chided. I turned away and rolled my eyes. Yes, I thought, and the thousands of other children in the orphanages? What made us so special?

Justin seemed to sense my train of thought, as he sighed and put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll explain when we get home, Harry."

I deferred with a nod. This wouldn't be so bad, anyways. Girls required entirely different things than boys, even if they were higher maintenance. Better than having to live with another boy my age, anyways - the endless pissing contest of brotherhood without the actual _brothers_.

Elaine returned with her bag, and we left for home. The return trip was almost familiar, thought I hoped we wouldn't be making this a regular habit.

=(.o0O0o.)=

**Settling In**

**December, 1991 (November, 1986)**

Elaine wouldn't _shut up_ during the first half of the ride, and then fell asleep practically mid-word. I wasn't annoyed by her chatter so much as completely befuddled; my confusion stemmed from the tendency orphaned children had to move little and speak less. Maybe it was just my orphanage, but it still seemed strange to me. I hoped she settled down soon. I couldn't have gotten a word in edgewise, had I tried.

Justin shot me an amused glance as if to say, _woman_, and I commiserated, but I had no idea why he expected a ten-year old to understand.

We finished the trip home undisturbed and Justin helped Elaine to bed in the room next to mine. A moment later, he walked into my room and whispered, "I know I promised, Harry, but I'll explain tomorrow morning, when Elaine is awake. It concerns her as well."

I nodded, too tired to complain. The heaviness of sleep dulled the urgency of that train of thought, and I felt content to wait until morning for an explanation.

I awoke to shining grey eyes framed by auburn hair, and suppressed my urge to recoil.

"Morning," I muttered, yawning. "Want to explain what you're doing in _my_ bed?"

Elaine, who had lain down on top of the sheets and appeared to be scrutinizing me intently, blinked. "No."

I snorted and pulled myself out of bed, grabbing a fresh set of clothes. Maybe dealing with another boy would have been easier. Turning around, I frowned. "Are you still here?"

"Yes," Elaine replied with a crooked half-smile. It vanished as quickly as it had come. "I wanted to talk to you before we went down for breakfast."

I was in the process of putting my socks on while standing on one foot, a process any reasonable person knows is delicate, when Elaine started laughing. I jumped at the unexpected sound and landed on my tailbone, letting out a grunt of pain. Elaine started laughing harder, and I turned my furious gaze upon her. Before I got a chance to express my displeasure, it struck me that the situation must have been funny from her perspective.

"You said you wanted to talk?" I asked, smoothing down my irritation. She shot up like a spring and whispered, "Yes. Do you have any idea why Justin adopted _two_ of us? He said he got you a week before me."

I blinked. Of all the things I had been expecting, that was not one of them. "Well... I asked Justin yesterday, and he said he tell me this morning. With you, actually. Anyways, let's go eat breakfast. Maybe he'll tell us afterward."

I led Elaine to the kitchen, where Justin was nursing his morning cup of coffee. "Morning, Harry, Elaine." He directed his gaze toward her. "Sleep well?"

Elaine replied in the affirmative and we began to pile our plates with food.

As we were finishing breakfast, Justin turned to me. "Harry, would you show Elaine around the house? Come to my office afterward, the three of us need to have a chat."

"Sure," I agreed, taking my dishes to the sink.

As I showed Elaine around the house, she started pestering me with questions. "What's it like living here?"

I shrugged. "Better than living in an orphanage. School's better, food's better, and the bed is better." I shot her a grin and she rolled her eyes.

"Ok, that's great, but how is it to actually _live_ here? What do you do?" she shot back.

"Well," I said, pointing out the bathrooms, "like chores? Mostly just washing the dishes. Justin said he was going to teach me something that we're not learning in school, though. Did he mention anything like that?"

"He did," Elaine confirmed. "Do you have any idea what it is?"

"Nope," I replied. "Anyways, that's about it for the house. Let's go see what Justin wanted to talk to us about. Maybe it's about what we'll be learning."

We made our way to the study and I knocked on the door. Justin had made it very clear that I was never to enter the study without him, and I had never even seen inside before.

Justin opened the door and we stepped inside. I looked around in amazement. It looked like nothing less than a cross between an evil scientist's laboratory and a magician's chambers. Jars with various exotic ingredients lined the shelves, pots hung over gas burners, a wooden rod leaned against the far wall, and there was even a bleached skull sitting on one of the shelves.

"Sit, please." Justin motioned to a pair of chairs in front of the workshop table. "We have several things to discuss, but they all tie into each other. Put simply, I am a wizard. Not a stage magician, but a wizard, using real magic to do things. This is why the house doesn't have any modern furnishings, by the way - electricity reacts badly to magic. One of the reasons I adopted the two of you is that you're both wizards as well, and you need to be trained. Now, don't take this the wrong way, because you're both wonderful kids, but untrained wizards can make a real mess of things when they come into their power. Any questions?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Elaine gaping at Justin with a disbelieving expression, but I was giving his words some serious thought. He had mentioned magic when I first met him, and it certainly explained my long-jump. Maybe it would even explain why I lived in two worlds, but unless he brought it up, I wouldn't ask about it. I didn't need him to think I was _crazy_, or anything.

"Can you show us some magic?" I asked. In truth, I was already convinced, but Elaine wasn't and I did want to see it in action.

"Sure," he chuckled, and stood up. "Stand up and wave your arms a few feet in front of me, like this - make sure nothing's there."

We did so, ascertaining there was nothing separating us but air. Justin raised his arm forward, spread his fingers out, and murmured a word. A dome of blue... something materialized in front of him and I blinked.

"Go ahead, touch it," he urged. I reached out and pressed my fingers against it. The dome was immovable and had absolutely no give. After some hesitation, Elaine also reached out to press against it.

Justin lowered his arm and the dome disappeared. "Alright, then. We'll be covering the basics tonight, and we'll start on theory and actually practicing some real magic tomorrow after school."

Justin sat down in his chair. "There are a couple of abilities that all wizards have, regardless of their power or inclinations. The first is the Soul Gaze. When a wizard looks into another person's eyes and holds their gaze, they see the truth of that person's being - and that person sees the same of the wizard. There's really no better way to describe it. You don't suddenly know everything about them, but you get a good look at who they are. It's something you can never forget, either. It stays with you forever, as clear as the moment it happened."

Justin's gaze was deadly serious as he looked at us, and I darted my eyes away from his. He gave a grim chuckle. "I'm glad you understand the seriousness of such a thing. It's not something to be taken lightly. The next thing is the wizard's Sight. It's similar to a Soul Gaze in that what you see stays with you forever in perfect clarity, but when you open your Sight, you can look upon anything. It can show you beauty, but if you look upon the wrong thing, it can also drive you insane. Which is why I won't be teaching you to open your sight for a while. It's not really important unless you're working with magic that you didn't create, anyways."

He stood up from the chair and opened the door. "That's all for today. Off with you two, I've got work to do."

Elaine and I made our way to the bedrooms. I shut the door behind me, only to find Elaine giving me a strange look. "What?"

She shook her head. "Did you actually believe any of that?"

"Of course I did," I replied, frowning. "Didn't you touch that... force-field, or whatever it was?"

She threw her head back, as if beseeching some higher deity for patience. "Yes, but I'm sure if I wanted to, I could figure out how to do something like that _without_ magic."

I sat on my bed and she flopped down next to me. "Well..." I let the word hang. "There's a really easy way to see if it's real or not."

She sat up. "What's that?"

I looked her in the eyes. "A Soul Gaze."

Our eyes connected, and we sat there for a moment. Nothing happened, and I thought for a moment that Justin had been having us on. Without warning, the world dropped away. A pane of glass occupied my field of vision. Shining from its depths were images of Elaine in various situations. The largest picture showed her in freefall, while her expression betrayed nothing but stoicism. Smaller images showed scenes of happiness and joy, sadness and cruelty, wonder and excitement. A closer examination revealed hairline cracks separating each scene. The mirror was not the whole of Elaine, as much as it pretended it was. There was was an overarching emptiness, a black nothingness that confused me as much as it caused me despair.

I blinked, and found myself staring into Elaine's eyes. Without a word, she got up and went to her bedroom.

I sniffed, and wiped the tears from my eyes.


	3. Playing with Fire

**Disclaimer: **Neither Harry Potter nor Harry Dresden belong to me.**  
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**A/N: **Sorry this is so late, but a midterm followed by getting sick followed by more midterms stopped me from writing much. Getting distracted by a one-shot didn't help either. Hopefully I'll have something new next week. Thanks to yojorocks from DLP for giving me a good idea for the ending - a minor edit has been made, so if you've already read it, just skip to the last few lines.**  
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><p><strong>Silence<strong>

**January, 1992 (December, 1986)**

"_Sedjet_." The candle wick burst into flame, and I heard Elaine give a surprised gasp next to me. I flicked my eyes up to Justin, who was examining the candle with a curious expression on his face. "That's it?" I asked.

Justin ignored my question. "Have you ever done this before, Harry?"

I shook my head.

He rubbed his chin. "Perhaps you have an affinity for pyromancy, but to succeed with a spell that quickly... Elaine, your turn."

She turned back to her own candle and concentrated. I could see her desire to succeed, spurred on by my success. A minute later, she held out her hand. "_Sedjet_!"

The top third of her candle did not explode so much as completely vaporize, showering us with bits of molten wax. I batted away the worst of it to see Elaine tugging the cooling wax from her hair. "Ick."

Justin seemed untouched, though amused. "Well, it's better than nothing. A bit less power next time, though, don't you think?"

Elaine nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Or maybe that was the flash-burn.

Justin leaned back in his chair. "To be honest, I had expected this to take quite a bit longer. I suppose you two should just practice, now. Harry, work on improving your speed. Elaine, work on your control."

He handed Elaine another candle.

"Justin," I began, "why do we need an incantation for the spell? Isn't it all formed in our mind anyways?"

Justin, who had been about to turn to his own workbench, turned back around. "Well, Harry, that's true to a certain extent. But the incantation separates us from the spell - protects us, really. Without it, the magic uses you as a conduit completely instead of only partially."

"But could you do the spell _without_ it?" I pressed him.

He sighed and put down his notes. "Yes, you could. But it's painful, and if you're casting a large spell, that much magic could seriously harm you as well." He gave a thoughtful grunt. "I suppose if you shaped the spell very, _very_ cleanly, far beyond what's normally necessary, you could avoid that. But it would take so long that it's hardly worth skipping the incantation."

"Can I try?" I asked, motioning to the candle.

"Knock yourself out," he replied, turning back to his workbench. "But don't blame me if it _does_ knock you out."

I blew the candle out, and captured the image in my mind. With a few broad strokes, the candle I remembered was enveloped in darkness. I gathered a small amount of magic, imagined the heat rising at the tip of the wick, pressed the spell into its form, made _sure_ there were no leaks, and released it with a pant that reminded me to breath.

I opened my eyes to see the candle burning merrily. The magic had left a tingling feeling behind - strange, but hardly painful or even unpleasant.

It was odd, I thought, that it should be so easy when Justin had said it would be difficult and time-consuming. Sure, it took an extra second or two, but I was confident that I could speed it up. Looking to the side, I saw that Elaine was deep in concentration, her candle still untouched. On a whim, I reformed the spell in my mind, and leaned over and lit the candle. A minute later, when Elaine finally opened her eyes, ready to speak the spell, her jaw dropped and she whirled around to me. "What did you do?"

I snickered and batted away her fists. "Oh, nothing. Hey, leave off!" That had been dangerously close to something I held in high regard.

"Harry? Elaine? Why are you fighting?" Justin asked, voice filled with irritation, then surprise. "Oh, did you manage it, Elaine?"

"No," she pouted. "That was Harry."

Justin raised an eyebrow. Whispering a word, he snuffed out the candles. "Show me, Harry."

I nodded. A second later, my candle was lit.

Justin whistled. "Wow. No headache?"

"Nope," I replied. "It tingles a bit, but it doesn't hurt."

"Well, congratulations, Harry, but next time, let Elaine finish her spell first," he chided. "I'd also like to see if you can manage this with more complicated spells, but we'll get into that later. Harry, go read, and let Elaine practice."

Elaine stuck her tongue out at me as I left, but I didn't dignify that with a response. Tomorrow, I would be at the Dursleys, free to experiment. Justin was taking things a bit slow for my tastes.

=(.o0O0o.)=

**Playtime**

**January, 1992 (December, 1986)**

The Dursleys didn't bat an eye when I opened the front door and walked out. To them, I was only six. Just as well, I thought. I didn't want to try and convince them otherwise.

I made my way to the park, but without a rush. Taking in a deep breath, I admired the quiet suburban neighborhood. I didn't get out much, preferring to stay inside and read, but it was nice to enjoy fresh air once in a while. A cat ran by me, and my head snapped around to look at it. There was something _off_ about it, though I couldn't quite place it. I pushed the thought away. There were a lot of cats in Little Whinging.

As I was walking by, a door opened and closed behind me. I paid it no mind until somebody called my name. "Harry!" Who would - oh.

"Good morning, Mrs. Figg," I said, putting on an appropriately pleasant expression. Mrs. Figg babysat me on occasion, though I had never really needed it. Still, it wouldn't do to be impolite.

"Where are you going, dear?" she asked.

"The park," I replied, motioning down the street.

"The Dursleys let you out?" she questioned, failing to hide her shock.

I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. What, did _everybody_ know that I had been locked up until recently? I would deal with that thought later, though. "I like to read a lot."

She blinked. "I see. Well, be on your way, child, but come back before dark." She opened the door and stepped back into her house.

I continued to the park, mulling the recent conversation over. In this world, I had secured my freedom less than two years ago, and I hadn't made a habit of going outside after that. To anybody else, it might seem as though I spent all my time locked up inside. No, I decided, Mrs. Figg's surprise wasn't suspicious. But her cats _definitely_ were.

I ignored the pathway at the entrance to the park and padded onto the cool grass instead. Weaving a path between the trees, I scanned the ground for an appropriate branch. Spotting one that looked straight enough for my purpose, I picked it up and slipped into the shade under a tree.

Laying the branch on the ground in front of me, I fixed its image in my mind. Closing my eyes, I drew in a small measure of magic and started shaping it to my will. _A change, a twist, a contortion... a knot_. The image of the stick in my mind flexed, twisted, and wrapped itself into a knot. Opening my eyes, I flicked my fingers at the branch and released the spell.

The magic rushed out of me. Without so much as a pause, the branch snapped, shattering the silence. I recoiled against the tree, then shifted forward when I was sure the danger had passed.

I picked up the branch and examined the remains. It was twisted into a knot, but it had splintered along one edge, rendering much of it into wood pulp. Dropping the branch, I frowned. The spell had behaved how I had crafted it, not how I had intended it. I had been focused on knotting the branch, but I had forgotten to take into account that even with magic, wood still behaved like wood, _unless I ordered it to behave otherwise_.

Ten minutes later, I sat in front of a knotted branch without so much as a crack running down its length. I sighed and flopped onto my back. How was I supposed to get rich with my amazing branch-knotting abilities?

=(.o0O0o.)=

**Possibilities**

**January, 1992 (December, 1986)**

I knocked on Justin's door and rocked back on my heels. He opened the door with an inquiring expression. "Yes, Harry?"

I hesitated. Even in my head, the question sounded stupid, childish. But I didn't know a better way to ask. "Justin, what exactly can you do with magic?"

He took in my look for a moment, and the corner of his lip curled up in wry amusement. He glanced back at something in his lab, then turned back to me. "Our lesson is in an hour, Harry. Can you wait until then?"

I nodded and began to walk away, when Justin's voice stopped me. "Hey, don't worry. I'll answer the question then. In the meantime, go find out what Elaine wants for dinner."

I found myself in my room, knocking at Elaine's door with little memory of how I had gotten there. She opened the door a crack and peeked out with a furtive glance that made me suspect that she was hiding something. Seeing that it was only me, she opened the door further, grabbed my arm, and pulled me inside.

"Shh!" she whispered. I looked at her in bafflement. I hadn't even _said_ anything. Then she pointed at her bed and I bit back a mad cackle. She had built a pillow fort.

Justin found us an hour later, sweaty and tangled in the sheets, pillows strewn about the room. He sighed and rubbed his temples. "Have you at least decided what we're going to eat after our lesson?"

I gave him a sheepish smile, but Elaine jumped off the bed. "I have!"

Staring at her in mock betrayal, I gave a dramatic gasp. "How could you? We didn't agree on anything!"

She turned her nose up at me. "Well, that's fine. Girls have better taste than boys, anyways."

I threw a pillow at her, and Justin sighed again. "You'll be cleaning this up later."

We followed him to the laboratory, where he bid us to sit down. The worktables were clear of materials, and it seemed like Justin would be lecturing today.

"So," he said, folding his hands together. "Harry asked me a very good question earlier today. What can magic do? And the answer to that question is both very simple and very complicated. In theory, magic can do almost anything. The catch is that certain things take enormous amounts of power and focus, more than any one wizard can hope to have. Not to mention they'll usually require thaumaturgical rituals with rare and expensive ingredients."

"Thaumaturgical rituals?" I interjected. The term was unfamiliar; I was sure that Justin had not brought it up before.

"Oh, right," Justin said, snapping his fingers. "I forgot. Put simply, there are two kinds of active spellcasting - evocation and thaumaturgy. Evocation is when you cast a spell that doesn't require any advance notice or preparation - like _Sedjat_. Thaumaturgy is more complicated. It's all about creating links between objects, so that when you affect one, you affect the other. You draw and empower a magical circle, so that there's no magical interference, then you can go about creating the link and casting the spell."

I was struggling to keep up, but Elaine beat me to it. "Can you say that again?"

Justin blinked, then sighed. "I went too fast, huh? Let's break it down a bit."

=(.o0O0o.)=

**Shift**

**January, 1992 (December, 1986)**

I sat up against the headboard, leaving the comforter on the bed. It was cold inside the house, but that was good. Falling asleep would be a monumental waste of effort.

11:50, the clock read. Anticipation caused the air to grow heavy around me, but I clamped down on my magic and the feeling stopped.

Soon, I would know for certain when my shift between worlds happened. Midnight seemed rather cliche, but it was my best guess. If it wasn't, I'd try again next weekend.

The magic lesson had gone better once Justin had slowed down and explained everything in detail. Rituals were interesting, but the idea that I had to sit for minutes if not hours casting a single spell bothered me. I felt hopeful that this was only a conceptual limitation, much like the use of incantations had been. Justin was still baffled by how I had accomplished that feat, and while my spellcasting was slower than Elaine's after she had mastered a spell, my speed was improving.

11:55. I shivered and drew my arms around myself, then almost smacked myself when the obvious solution presented itself. It would only be a slight twist on a spell I already knew, so I could probably accomplish it within the next few minutes.

I didn't want to attempt to heat myself directly, there were too many ways for that to go wrong. So instead I imagined a balloon of air around getting warmer.

It was not an easy thing to visualize, because there was no image to go along with heating air, and I was cold and tired, but I doubled down on the shape of the spell. Gathering a small bit of magic, I remembered the feeling of stepping in front of the blazing fireplace after a long night out, linked the feeling to the concept of the air around me, _pushed_ the magic into the shape that had grown in my mind-

-and released the spell with the breath that I had unwittingly held. I noticed the change in the air a second later, and relaxed as I looked up at the clock on the wall.

11:59, 35 seconds. I let out a quiet chuckle. That had used up nearly all of my time - had it taken any longer, I might have missed the transition entirely. Basking in the warmth, I counted the ticking of the clock, focusing on my bedside table.

Tick. 45 seconds.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick. 50 Seconds.

I tensed as midnight neared.

Tick. 57. Tick. 58. Tick. 59...

Tick.

Midnight went by without a whisper and I felt almost ill from the disappointment.

Tick. Tick. Tick...

With a violent yet motionless lurch, reality shifted around me and I nearly fell off my bed. It was not my changed surroundings that caused my disorientation, however - it was the feeling of changing bodies, from a scrawny ten-year old to an even scrawnier six-year old.

Palpable relief filled me at my success, but it was mixed with bone-deep weariness, and I remembered how difficult it had been to stay up until midnight for this experiment. Six-year old bodies were not meant to stay up that late, I thought, and slipped under the blanket before I fell asleep.


End file.
